The words "official mourning": hogwash. No such thing. Other than I started to attempt mascara after two weeks. Mixed results at best.
Heather did not have a lot of special gifts, no odd or surprising brilliant talents. Before Zoloft and Special Olympics she was angry, withdrawn and difficult to live with. The tantrums could be used to set a watch and God help you if you sat in her chair or used her coffee mug. What happens when you watch your siblings and friends outgrow you and you are left behind?
But I have to say the last two years have been worth moving back for. I thought it would be for Mum and Da, who are now marching through the later years, but instead it's what I did not realize and the last thing we could have expected.
The very best part was being with Mum during the Special Olympics track practices watching Heather flirt outrageously with her boyfriend Ruben and Mum would twist her hands and make some very uncomfortable nervous noises and I could lean over and say, "Ma. Look. She's happy." And she was.
Mum's last day before retirement is tomorrow; a mere eight hours of employment left! I am so delighted.